


Flowers in bloom

by orphan_stories



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Childhood Memories, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Memories, Smut, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 11:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14080014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_stories/pseuds/orphan_stories
Summary: Memories from Wammy's and the begging of the relationship with Matt from Mello's POV. Enjoy!





	Flowers in bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So this is my first attempt to describe how I imagine the begging of Matt/Mello. As English is not my mothertongue excuse me for any mistakes. Have fun and lots of love!

I’d known him for half of my short life but this was the day everything changed and it wasn’t like what I’d known anymore. He wasn’t. Still same but different. That afternoon I was done with school work and studying in the chase of something I knew I could never get. Never be number one. Always second, always in the shadow of someone else’s glory. I rested my head on a biology textbook and felt tears forcing into my eyes but I wiped them away and clenched my teeth tight. I threw books onto the floor and rolled onto my side. My head was full of obsessive thoughts I couldn’t get rid of. Thoughts of my unfulfilled ambition, of my mother, or rather – of the lack of her, of Croatia, of the things I missed and was not to see ever again. Last but not least – the thoughts of him. Of the softness of his hair. The softness I felt every night he cuddled me to sleep. We were a strange pair of friends, always together, despite the differences in our personalities, goals in life, interests and everything else. He was an easy-going, relaxed person who only liked to play video games and didn’t really care for stuff like social status or scores. I was a hot-blooded, bad—tempered, full of anger kid who tried to gain his aims by any means and, to be honest, he was the only person who tolerated my behavior and didn’t mind my mood swings and other things. He didn’t mind and was always on my side, always ready to comfort me after a hard day, always there. We were a strange pair of friends because we crossed the boundaries, crossed the line, which nobody could understand. But we had been sharing the room for years and sleeping in one bed, eating the other’s half-eaten meal, using the bathroom in the same time was simply natural for us. Maybe it wasn’t for the fact that we had shared the room. We shared our thoughts and I must say that amongst all the bad luck I had in life, I was lucky to find one person I felt close to. It doesn’t happen to everybody, does it? But it did happen to me and I am grateful for that. 

The thoughts of his hair, of his arms closed tightly around me, of his heartbeat I felt on my back when he spooned me. I rolled onto my other side, unable to sleep.   
‘Damn I’ I said to myself, angry. ‘Not again’.  
Then I heard the door open and my heart started pounding like crazy. What I haven’t said is what he had made me feel for the last couple of months. The sound of his voice made me feel butterflies in my stomach, his words made me blush, his touch made me shiver. I tried my best not to acknowledge anyone of it but I was doing a poor job because I knew he had noticed. There was something different in the way he treated me, something more subtle, more gentle. I was in love, I couldn’t really fool myself anymore and I was terrified he might hate me for that. Instead he was more caring and delicate which made me love him even more.  
‘Hi, Mel’ he said, ‘You’re not sleeping, are you?’  
‘I can’t sleep. I can’t study. I can’t really do anything and I feel totally useless’ I was surprised at my own words. He just threw his bag onto his bed and laid next to me.  
‘ Shut up, will you? Useless? Are you insane? You are the only person I can talk to in this Brittish shithole’ That’s what he used to call our orphanage, still not able to fully adjust to a non-American way of life, always remembering his early years in New York ‘Now let’s not speak. Let’s just lay here for awhile’ He moved closer to me and looked into my eyes.   
‘Have you been crying?’  
‘No, it’s just…’  
‘C’mon, I know you have. In spite of all your genius, you are stupid in some ways. You never learn. Never learn of what is really important in life’ he sighed.   
‘C’mere’ he said softly. I shifted closer to him and he hugged me. My heartbeat rose to an uncontrollable speed when he rubbed circles on my back. His hand was moving slowly and lightly. We laid like that for a couple of minutes. I guess I was supposed to calm down but my breath was getting heavier each second and finally he pulled away.   
‘Mel?...’  
I just looked at him blushing, ashamed that he got to know. I bit my lower lip and looked down. His hand moved up to the nape of my neck, to the crook of my neck, to my collarbone. I closed my eyes and sighed. He continued to touch me, moving his hand slowly down my chest and to my stomach where it rested for a little while. I froze, anticipating his next move. He tucked my shirt and gently touched my skin, exploring the unfamiliar area, scratching it lightly. Our eyes met. He put his finger into my navel and pressed it. It is the most erotic memory I have ever had. I was thirteen at that time and probably not ready for it, but had I ever been ready for what happened to me in my life? He took his finger out and moved his hand along the bright trail of hair running down my belly button. I didn’t know what to do.  
‘It’s so soft’ he whispered and took my hand. I was feeling too shy to respond but I looked into his eyes again. We stared at each other for a long time. Without moving. Without talking. Then he just moved closer to me and his lips touched mine. Our first kiss was so sensitive and sensual, so delicate, so light, like the sunshine on our skin. After a couple of minutes he simply opened my mouth with his free hand and kissed me an open-mouthed kiss. Our tongues touched gently and swirled around each other. It just blew my mind. I let him shift on top of me and we kissed for a long while. At some point he pulled back and laid his lips on the skin behind my ear, on the skin of my neck, on my jaw line, sliding his tongue against it. He made me moan quietly and arch my back, melting into his lips, his hands, his whole being, whole existence. Our fingers were tangled in a tight grip. He whispered:  
‘You smell so nice’, before sucking on my earlobe. We spent the whole night after kissing, gently touching each other. Without any further moves, he guided my hand along his torso, helped me break my fear and shame. He tasted like Red Bull, smelled like cigarettes he smoked secretly on the roof of the building, where we used to sit and talk when everybody around was asleep. He felt like home. So comforting and safe. We fell asleep sometime around the first sunshine on the sky, lightly sprayed on our hair, on the skin of our cheeks, our necks.  
That was the time everything changed. And for once in my life it was a good change.

***  
We still used to spent all the possible time together. Trying very hard not to let anybody know what was happening between us. But, like I said, our closeness was found strange by most of the other kids at our place. At evenings we used to lock the door and lay on his or my bed, exploring our bodies, our mouths, our minds. We used to talk a lot during our make-out sessions. About anything that was currently on our minds. It was mostly me talking while he would listen carefully and hold my hand. I told him all my secrets, all hidden stories, all memories. Of my country, of the food I shared with my mother, of the terrible things that happened during the Yugoslavian Civil War. He told me stories of his parents, of the kosher meals he was forced to eat, of the dog they used to have. I clearly remember the time when he first put his hand between my legs.  
‘Can I?...’ he asked quietly. I just nodded. He lowered his hand slowly and grabbed my penis through my pants. I tried my best not to come from that single touch. He made me moan while he stroked me, moan louder and louder so he had to muffle my cries with his hand. I was still afraid to touch him without a clear permission or demand. He took my hand and placed it between his legs.   
‘Please…’ he whispered into my ear.   
And so we were. Stroking each other through the fabric of our pants at first and putting our hands into the other’s clothes later.   
We used to fall asleep together and wake up together.  
And then that night came. It was in the middle of summer. It was too hot to wear clothes at night so both of us went to bed wearing only underwear. It had been a hard day’s night so the plan was too cuddle the other to sleep, without any action. We embraced one another. I closed my eyes. But I couldn’t sleep.   
‘Mel…’ He couldn’t sleep either.  
‘Uhuh?’  
‘It’s just…’ he put his hand on my belly. I didn’t need more. The feeling of his skin against mine was too overwhelming. I moved my face closer to his and simply put my tongue into his mouth. He moaned. I felt shivers in my spine as he rolled me onto my back and broke the kiss moving his lips onto my neck. He raised my hands above my head and held them there. He touched me, kissed me, bit me. I felt his tongue on my nipple and let out a sound of pleasure.  
‘Do you want it?...’ he asked quietly, stroking my hair.  
‘I’m scared…’  
‘I’ll be gentle’  
I nodded just once and watched him get up and walk to the desk. He opened the drawer to take a bottle of petroleum jelly.  
‘We kind of… need it’  
I knew it, of course, but I turned my face away, too ashamed, too scared of what was going to happen. He rolled back on top of me and said:  
‘Don’t worry. It’s going to be alright.’ and continued touching me, kissing me, licking me. He undressed me before undressing himself. I tangled my fingers into his hair tight, when I felt his fingers pushing into me. It hurt at first but he waited patiently until I got used to the feeling. He laid a kiss on my lips and repeated:  
‘It’s gonna be alright, it’s gonna be alright…’  
And so it happened. I felt a dull burn filling my hips though he was as gentle as he could. He asked me if he should stop as I was bleeding. But I wanted it. I didn’t admit it that time but I needed some kind of physical pain to pull me away from my obsessions, of the depression building slowly inside my mind. And then it became real. We were not children anymore.   
‘Please…’ I whispered ‘Use me’  
He didn’t hesitate at doing what he wanted. He pulled my hair and panted into my ear. I embraced his waist with my legs and pulled him closer. He left love-bites on my neck, my chest, my shoulders. He would thrust harder and harder, making my dick ooze with precum. Pounding into that one little spot inside me, which made me cry. Out of pleasure and pain.   
We whispered and moaned each other’s names, I licked his neck, greedy, needy of any kind of stimulation. I dug my fingernails into the skin of his back, of his shoulders, leaving red marks on. Then I saw the look on his face.  
‘Mel!...’, he whispered and bit my neck. Hard. I felt spasms taking over his body, his tensed muscles relax, I heard his panting. He fell on me, boneless and I let him get down from his high. But I wasn’t done. I wanted more. Needed more. He knew it. He pull out and gently pushed his fingers inside me. He took my dick into his hand and stroke me. He made my vision hazy. It took a while but it was better than any kind of masturbation I had ever committed. I cried his name out quietly and came all over his hand and my stomach. Afterwards I felt shy again. I rolled onto my side but he spooned me and said:  
‘We need to throw that bedsheet away tomorrow’  
He nuzzled my hair. Smelled my sweat.   
‘How are you feeling?’, he asked.  
‘Fine’  
‘Was it good?’  
‘Yes’, I answered simply without turning my face.  
‘Are you ashamed?’  
I didn’t respond.  
‘Ok then. Listen. I wanted you. All of you. Wanted to hear you moan, wanted to feel you touch me, wanted to feel how tight you are, don’t be shy, you are and it felt great. Wanted to see you come, wanted to smell it. To fill you with my semen’ He tangled our fingers together and hid his face in the crook of my neck. ‘ And I’m happy for what I got. So don’t run away. ‘  
I remained silent for a moment. Then I rolled onto my other side and faced him.  
‘You don’t regret it?’, I asked.  
‘Hell no.’  
‘Then I don’t regret it either’, I said and cuddled up to his chest. I closed my eyes and let sleep overwhelm me.  
Next morning we threw the bedsheet away and went down for breakfast. We didn’t talk but I felt his hand brushing mine under the table. And this was the moment since when I found myself happy.  
It didn’t last long, though.


End file.
